While the Yule Log Burns
by Elfpen
Summary: He'd always been told that Christmas was a time of peace, love, and family. But as Will watched the fire lick up around the last remnants of the Yule log, he realized that he had none of these things. He wondered if he ever would. An RA Christmas oneshot.


A/N: After seeing the first crop of Christmas oneshots on the archives, I realized that Christmas Eve was half way over and I didn't have the slightest inking of what I was going to write for an RA Christmas fic, I only knew that as an avid RA fan and fanfic writer, I couldn't _not _write one. So, I whipped this up in what I think is record time. It's definitely not one of my better pieces, but I hope y'all enjoy it anyway. I apologize in advance for any typos!

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**Merry Christmas, one and all!**

**May we remember, believe and rejoice in the True reason for celebration.**

_**Isaiah 9, Luke 2**_

**Happy reading!**

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_While the Yule Log Burns_

_by _

_Elfpen_

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It had been a bleak December that year. Freezing winds swept across the plains, rattling the sleeping trees and whipping mercilessly through Wensley Village. The river had frozen over, and the grass was covered in a wet layer of snow – the kind of snow that leaks and drips and finds a way to saturate everything from wood to wool and induce a deep-seated cold; the kind of cold that settles into the bones. Standing alone amidst the wind and snow, Castle Redmont was perched atop her hilltop post like noble stone sentinel, shining as a dot of warmth and color where no others could be found.

Inside her strong walls, many villagers huddled together as they tried to cram themselves into the inns and public houses, if only to escape the frigid temperatures. Guards and wardens huddled in thick cloaks and fur tunics, oiled leather boots pulled high up around thick socks as they patrolled their home and fortress. Everywhere, white clouds hung in the air where warm breath had met cold air. People scuttled back and forth across the castle yard shivering as they went, eager to reach a warm fire or a hot drink.

Overall, the people of Redmont fief looked cold, tired, and as one might expect, miserable. However, the last sentiment would be a hasty generalization based on the weather. But some things, as many had learned, can overcome cold temperatures and freezing extremities. If one were to look more closely at the faces that huddled by the fires, that spoke in whispers outside the inns, that shivered alone and together in the wind, one would notice that on every other face, there was a smile. Some were wide, and some were small, others were white, and still others yellow. Some were missing a few teeth – one was missing _all_ its teeth - and many others were covered by thick scarves, but all the same, they were identical smiles of joy and good humor. It may have been cold, but their hearts were warm. Laughter emanated from the warm light of the inn, and kegs of steaming cider were brought out for all to enjoy. In the fading light of the day, those taking refuge in the castle walls gathered around the large festooned pine in the middle of the castle yard, and took a simple kind of pleasure in the peaceful night, the warmth of the cider, and most of all, in each other's company. Any listener could have pinpointed the reason for their merriment, as it was uttered every few moments by a smiling face.

"Merry Christmas." They said.

Observer to it all, a young boy pressed his face to one of the many windows in the Redmont Ward, his breath fogging the glass as he stared out at the festivities. Two big brown eyes with an insatiable curiosity followed the movements and actions of the people with silent interest, listening to their muffled conversations and watching as they huddled by the massive tree and warm fires. They all seemed in such good humor, he thought. He wondered how they managed it.

"Will, come over here! You'll freeze your fingers off, pressing them to the glass like that!" A feminine voice called him. He turned and nodded before padding over the warm fire, sticking out his hands to thaw by the fireside while his nursemaid scolded him lightly. It felt like an empty Christmas in the Redmont Ward. Many of the older children had been allowed out to take part in the large party outdoors – if they could brave the cold – and the younger children were all in bed by now. This left Will and his yearmates alone in the common rooms, sitting around the fire to play with the toys they'd received that morning as Christmas gifts.

Baron Arald, out of the generosity and love in his heart, had thought to provide at least one gift for every castle ward on Christmas. And while it was just one gift for every ward, it was something that each child looked forward to each year. At the edge of the firelight, Will could see one of his wardmates, Jenny, playing with the cloth doll she'd received, smiling as she did so. George was not far off, picking apart and reassembling a wooden puzzle that he'd unwrapped that morning. Across the room, Will could hear Horace bounding around, playing with the wooden toy sword that he'd gotten. Will didn't bother to look at the other boy. Instead, he chose to look over at Alyss, who was happily scribbling away in her new journal, a pocket sized leather volume which, despite its simplicity, Alyss loved very much. He went over to her, and tried to peek over her shoulder.

"What are you writing?" He asked, rising on tiptoe.

"Will," Alyss exclaimed, snapping her book shut, "don't do that. And I'm not going to tell you what I'm writing about, so don't ask." Alyss said, adjusting her position so she could continue writing without Will seeing.

Will looked disappointed. "Can I read it?" He asked hopefully.

"Of course not!" Alyss said, "It's incredibly rude to read a girl's diary, Will." She told him. He sighed, seeing that he was getting nowhere.

"Oh. Okay." He said. Years later, Will may have or may have not learned that at that particular moment in time, Alyss had been writing about him.

He meandered back towards the fireplace and sat down next to the place where he'd left his toy, still cushioned among its wrappings to protect it. He pulled it out now, a fine wooden figuring of a knight on horseback. The horse was a noble-looking bay, standing straight and steady beneath the brave-looking knight who rode in the saddle. With shining grey armor and streaming red and white banners, the warrior looked knightly indeed. When he'd gotten it, Will had rather quickly adopted the idea that it was a figurine of his father – the father he'd never known or met. Like all other castle wards, Will was an orphan. But unlike most of them, he knew nothing of his parents, and had no idea what they had looked like. He'd always fancied the idea that his father had been a great hero, a noble knight, perhaps, like the figurine he held in his hand. He gazed at it longingly, wishing that the warrior weren't wearing a visor helmet, so he could finally see his father's face.

"Will," Jenny broke into his thoughts, "come play with me over here – your knight could save the beautiful damsel!" With that, the girl melodramatically stranded her doll atop the stack of firewood that stood nearby, giving a high pitched cry for help in place of the distressed young princess. Will smiled slightly over at her. He had never been one for these types of games, but his heart was too soft to crush Jenny's spirits with refusal. He scooted over to where she sat and began to go along with her game, ignoring Horace's mocking snorts of laughter.

The statue of his father – that is, the toy knight – was just about to save the poor stranded princess when suddenly:

"Haha!" Horace jabbed at the pile of firewood, which Jenny and Will had fashioned into a makeshift tower, and it came tumbling down, leaving the poor princess lying face down with a large pile of timber on her back. Horace smiled triumphantly.

"Horace!" Jenny screeched, concernedly recovering her doll and brushing off any splinters. "Don't hurt her! We were almost finished!" She pouted angrily at him. He didn't seem to care.

"Aw, come on…" He said, swinging his wooden toy sword around, "what's a rescue without a villain? And besides," He poked his sword threateningly at Will's figurine, "That's not a real knight anyway."

Will, partially out of offense, but more out of spite towards the annoying bigger boy, came back quickly. "He's a realer knight that you'd ever be, at least."

Horace flushed. "You wish! One day, Will, I really _will _be a knight – a real warrior. You'll see. And then you'll realize that this," he punctuated the last word with a mean jab at Will's figurine once more, "is nothing more than your imagination."

Will flushed with anger and embarrassment. Anger because Horace had insulted not only Will's gift but, by a strange connection of imagery in Will's mind, his father as well. Embarrassment because Will couldn't come up with any witty responses to Horace's taunt.

As a final bullying gesture, Horace reached out with his toy weapon and knocked the figurine clean from Will's grasp to send it skidding across the floor. Will scrambled to recover it, hoping that it hadn't broken. Now all of their wardmates were watching the scene play out in front of them.

"Stop it!" Will cried, clutching back his prize, and Jenny grabbed on to Horace's tunic and scolded him grumpily. By this time, the nursemaids had taken notice of the ruckus and two came in to sort out the mess. By the end of it, Horace had been sent to his room in the boy's dormitory, and Will given an authoritative scolding. Now, the small boy huddled by the fire, absently examining the features of his toy knight.

One by one the rest of his wardmates wandered off to bed. First George, then Jenny. Alyss stayed behind the longest, casting concerned glances over at her oldest friend, Will, until she too headed off to bed. Now alone in the room, Will sighed and turned to gaze at the fire. The massive Yule log that had been picked out the previous day to burn through Christmas day was now a small thing, surrounded by embers and ashes that glowed in mesmerizing patterns. In a few hours, Will supposed, the whole thing would be a pile of ashes signaling the end of the Christmas celebration. Some celebration it had been, Will thought. He'd woken early to receive his gift, he'd had a huge lunch to celebrate the holiday and all around there were people wishing him Christmas cheer. But somehow, it didn't seem like a very merry Christmas to Will. It seemed much more sad than merry, and somehow that sadness was compounded by the fact that everyone else seemed to be so happy.

"A time of peace, love, and family," He'd heard more than one person say that day. It sounded promising at first, but the more Will thought about it, the more he began to realize that he didn't really know what it all meant. He closed his eyes, a little wrinkle working itself between his eyebrows as he frowned in deep thought.

_Peace._

Peace was something that was easily identified. A longing for peace seemed to be inbred in all humans, and Will was no different. But he would be the first to realize that peace was not something he had much of in his life.

On the outside, there was the painful rivalry with Horace, his wardmate. Will couldn't remember a time when Horace wasn't there, and while the two had gotten along reasonably well in their earlier years, as they grew older, the two boys began to clash repeatedly and often. Horace was a bully to Will, and a constant worry. Will dreaded any encounters with the bigger boy, and while he could hold his own in a confrontation, he wished he wasn't so tormented by his yearmate.

On the inside, there was a different turmoil. Despite the fact that he'd been born into it, Will had never come to terms with the death of his parents. Who had they been? What had they been like? Had they loved Will, or had they not even known him? Why did they have to die? And, flowing from the confusion over his parents was Will's confusion over himself. Who was he? If his parents were nobodies, what did that make him? At an age where he was just beginning to question his identity, especially being an orphan, Will was waging a constant internal battle, whether conscious or subconscious.

And that was no place for peace.

_Love_

Love was something that was a bit more prevalent in Will's life. His wardmates – well, some of his wardmates, at any rate – loved him by giving him companionship. Baron Arald loved him by his generosity and charity, which had raised him and sustained him his entire life. Even the nursemaids loved him – or so he was told – when they scolded him for his wrongdoings.

But somehow, Will wondered if any of it was real, if any of it was for _him, _and not someone else. He sighed despondently to himself.

_Family_

Family was the issue that really hit home. It was his softest spot – his most venerable point of attack, because Will had no family. That was the whole reason why he was in the Ward. He had no mother and no father, and no siblings to speak of. He had no aunts or uncles, grandfathers or grandmothers, and no strange extended relatives at all. He was just Will, and as far as his brown eyes could see, he would always be 'just Will'.

In some ways, he knew he had a makeshift family in the ward. Jenny and George of course, and Alyss especially. Something told Will that he and Alyss would always be family, in one form or another. Still, in many ways he often wondered if the Ward was really his family at all. A family wasn't just a group of people, Will knew. Families were people who stayed with you, no matter what. Through thick and thin, through sickness and health, through joy, sadness, fear, and anger, families stayed by your side until you'd seen it through. They loved you, and you loved them back. You might get into fights, but you were always welcome to come home. Family meant security. Family meant unconditional love. Family mean that you were never alone.

But all too often, Will got the feeling that he was very alone. And all the more often, there was no family standing by his side to tell him otherwise.

With these thoughts running through his head, Will looked into fire sadly, if not a bit resentfully, and let his hand fall to brush the smooth painted wood of his knight figurine.

Will had always been told that Christmas was a time of peace, love, and family. But as he watched the fire lick up around the last remnants of the Yule log, Will realized he had none of these things. Teary eyed, he drew his knees up to his chin, hugging the statue of his father close, and wondered if he ever would.

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_Some years later…_

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Every castle across the nation broke out their festive decorations at this time of year, and while Will had always thought that Castle Redmont had an impressive array of Christmas décor, Castle Araluen was truly a magnificent sight to behold. Red and gold banners hung in great sheets on either side of the keep gate, and seemingly endless cords of garland hung from the high arches all around the castle. Outdoors, there were decorated pines dotting the castle yard every few hundred metres, all shining with ornaments and gold chains. Inside the castle, the sight was even grander.

A thousand shining candles stood on a thousand golden candlesticks, and the ordinary carpets in the many corridors had been replaced by festive green and red colors, with rich brocade hanging from every window, framing the picturesque snowfall from within the warm indoor environment.

The feast on Christmas night had been huge – huger than any banquet Will had ever attended. King Duncan had invited anyone within traveling distance of the castle to attend, free of charge, and the turnout had been massive. It was standing room only in the great hall, and even the yard was packed to the maximum as thousands of citizens, peasants, nobles and knights alike took part in the festivities.

Yet somehow, amidst the chaotic buzz, Will had found himself sitting at the King's head table, next to some of his favorite people in the world. Horace, smiling his calm smile, sat at his left and Alyss bobbed her head along to a merry tune at his right. Across where the King sat, Will could see Halt, looking surprisingly cheerful next to Pauline. Cassandra let out a laugh at something her father said, and the King smiled with her.

Soon, perhaps too soon for their liking, the large audience in the Great Hall was dismissed to enjoy the rest of the night in the castle yard as the King and his party retired for the evening. It was well past midnight when they all returned to their quarters, but they stayed up anyway to relax in each others' company.

There had been stories exchanged, banters provoked, and most of all, holiday traditions shared that night. The whole group had 'oohed' and 'awwed' in amusement as a flustered Gilan and a rather conniving Jenny were 'accidentally' caught together under the mistletoe, and repeated the sentiment, though with a little less teasing involved, when the same happened to the happily married pair of Cassandra and Horace. Gifts had been exchanged that morning, but now a few more were brought out and passed around, enjoyed by all who gave as much as those who received.

In the very late hours of the night, after a unanimous vote of appeal, Will produced his lute – 'that is, _mandola,' _ he corrected Halt for the thousandth time - and played several festive tunes before the group separated and went their different ways. After many drawn out 'goodnight's and plenty of smiles more, Will eventually found himself sitting on the couch across from the hearth, his arm wrapped around Alyss' waist, staring into the dying fire. The sight of the burning Yule log struck a chord in his memory, and from a distant well-wisher outside, he could hear the cry:

"_Peace and love to you, my brother!"_

Peace, love, and family.

Will leant his head against where Alyss' had laid her's on his shoulder, and closed his eyes in thought.

_Peace._

Though he might not have thought the same when he was younger, Will thought that he had a good deal of peace in his life.

Peace was a wonderful thing. And over the years, Will had learned that peace was not a permanent state of being where nothing bad happened to you. Rather, peace was being calm on a clear summer day as well as in a harsh winter storm; being content in good times as well as bad.

Will had peace in his job, his duty, and his country. He had peace amongst his friends and family, and he had peace about himself. This was one respect in which Will considered himself very blessed.

_Love. _

Love was another thing in which Will was not lacking. The love of his friends would never let him down. They loved him not only when it was convenient, but also when he didn't particularly appreciate their love – even when he lashed out. And they loved him not out of personal gain, but for Will himself. And that was a blessing in and of itself, to be loved for who he was.

Alyss, Horace, Halt, Gilan – they were just few of the dear friends who loved him very much, whom he also loved, and whom he knew he could call on at any time for help. This was another respect in which Will considered himself to be blessed.

But there was yet one more respect in which Will considered himself to be the most blessed man in the entire world.

_Family._

Will clearly remembered a time when he had had no family, when he'd felt entirely alone. But since then, he'd somehow found his way into the most amazing family he could ask for. It was a strange family, he had to admit, but it was warm and inviting and loving all the same.

First, there was Alyss. She was undoubtedly the oldest member of his family, and still remained true to this day. She'd never given up faith in him, even when others did, and she'd always been right there beside him, in the midst of trouble as well as joy. Will absently rubbed a finger over the gold ring that rested on his third finger and thought of its counterpart on Alyss' hand. He smiled.

Then, there was Horace. It was odd how the boy that he'd once considered to be the bane of his very existence had turned out to be his closest friend. Since his days as a bully, Horace had grown up and matured into a wonderful friend, companion, and leader, and Will regarded him as the closest thing to a brother he'd ever known, and more than that, the best friend he'd ever had.

As if the floodgates of thought had opened, a whole host of other names fell into place in Will's mind.

Cassandra, who was like his little sister, who he'd survived so much with; who he owed so much to.

Lady Pauline, who had gracefully taken up a mother-like figure in his life, would always be there to resolve conflict, lend wisdom, and lead with a gentle nature. Will admired her more than she knew.

King Duncan, who was something of a wise, kindly uncle who just happened to run the country. It was strange for Will, once just a peasant orphan, to consider the King a part of his family, but more by Duncan's bidding than his own, Will found himself irrevocably tied to the King's family.

Gilan, who was like a cheerful older brother that always managed to either make him smile or make an utter fool of him, depending on the situation. Either way, it always ended with a laugh.

Jenny, who was somewhere between a loving sister and a mother-like aunt, who always made sure that Will had an ear to listen, a shoulder to lean on, and plenty of food to eat.

Crowley, who was both his commanding officer and something of a kind old uncle with his witty and accepting nature, had taught him many things, and continued to encourage him whenever he got the chance.

And finally, there was Halt. How would one describe what Halt meant to Will? He was the father that Will had never met, the teacher who'd taught Will not only how to work, but also how to live. He was the mentor and the guide that Will had lacked through his childhood years, the steady rock of endurance that he needed throughout his teen years, and the constant companion that Will loved throughout his adult years. Somehow, Will regarded Halt somewhere along the lines of a father, a grandfather, a teacher, a mentor, a hero, a leader, and a comrade all rolled up in to one. And that personage, with all his intricacies and quirks and everything that he meant to Will could only be described with one name: Halt. To describe him in any other way just seemed inadequate.

They were his family – all of them. They were a rather ragtag bunch of misfits, Will thought; a whole spectrum of personalities, experiences, backgrounds and stations. But somehow, they had come together and formed one large family, a family that stuck together through thick and thin, through sickness and heath, through war and peace, through conflict and joy, through young and old. And within this family, within _his _family, Will felt security, unconditional love, and above all else, he knew that he would never ever be alone.

Will finally opened his eyes and gazed back into the fire, watching the embers dance as the fire licked up the last remnants of the Yule log. He glanced down at Alyss and smiled when he realized she was asleep. He kissed her brow and settled his head warmly against hers as his eyelids began to droop. Christmas, he'd long been told, was a time of peace, love, and family. And now, with a cloud a peace over him, the warmth of love beside him, and the assurance of family around him, Will couldn't agree more.

_And while the Yule log burns away into the night,_ Will thought, _they'll remain until the dawn._

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**Merry Christmas to all, and to all, a good night.**

_~Elfpen_


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